Brad and Keith: Confessions of Kisses
Portrait of a man, confronting
Of course I went back to Castleton to see Keith.
And my mom. And other people who might surprise you. Life is more complicated than movies. People like movies because they’re easy. You lean back, stick your fingers in fake-butter popcorn, and once you figure out who the good guys and bad guys are, shit pretty much rolls the way you expect.
Look at you now, sittin there with your recorder on and your pen all busy, figuring out how to tell my story. How to make the bad guys real bad and the good guys real heroes.
Well, that kinda sucks for you, cause I ain’t no hero. I’m just a messed up asshole who couldn’t take it anymore. And the bad guys? Don’t go lookin for no black hats.
See, you remember about Keith beatin me up and knockin my tooth out. You remember that because it’s important and I told it first. But you don’t know other stuff about Keith, because nobody starts a story from the day they were born.
I don’t love Keith… maybe. But I like him. He’s been part of me since my earliest memories. Mom too. I don’t like her much, but I love her. And I wasn’t gonna die without getting to know them again.
It’s only when you start to die you realize how lonely you are.
I was sittin on my bed with all my pill bottles spread out when Keith walked in. He went, “Jesus Christ, dude. What the hell is all that? Your own fuckin pharmacy?”
I laughed, because it really did look funny.
I kept puttin pills in my daily dose boxes while we talked. “This in an antibiotic. And this. And this one too. They’re supposed to work better together.”
He dragged my desk chair over to sit and watch.
“This is a steroid. This one’s a different kind of a hormone. This here is an anti-fungal. All those ones over there are vitamins.”
“I thought there wasn’t any treatment for AIDS?”
“Oh, yes there is.” I held up my most important bottle. “This is azidothymidine, AZT. I take it twice a day. It’s an enzyme that inhibits the production of reverse transcriptase in human cells.”
Keith’s mouth kinda fell open, which I sorta expected. He laughed really hard and went, “What the fuck did you just say? You the same guy I was in all the dumb kid classes with?”
I laughed again, because he had a point, but mostly because his own laugh was so real. It took me back to all the times when we was kids and just being around Keith was enough to make everything OK even when it wasn’t.
I tried to get serious and tell him what was happening. “AIDS gets your attention better than our boring teachers. So, check it out. HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, needs to be inside a human cell to reproduce. What sucks is that HIV really loves to live inside T cells, which are blood cells your body needs to keep you from getting sick.”
Keith looked confused, so I tried to make it simpler. “HIV attacks the good cells you need to stay healthy and turns them into virus factories. Instead of doing their jobs, the T cells pump out more HIV instead. Then they die.”
“Damn! So is that why people with AIDS die of all kinds of different sicknesses?”
“You really have been reading up.”
“So this medicine you take? What does it do?”
“AZT? So, yeah, your cells make this enzyme called reverse transcriptase. They need it to reproduce and other important stuff. But the virus needs it too, or it can’t turn the cell into an HIV factory.”
“And AZT stops the reverse transcript or whatever?”
“That’s the general idea, but not exactly. If I took enough AZT for my cells to totally stop making reverse transcriptase, I’d die. The medicine would be worse than AIDS. So the idea is to take just the right amount to slow the virus down without killing me first.”
“Damn!”
“Yeah.”
“Is it working?”
“I dunno. I just started taking it. It’s why I get so sick when I try to eat. One of the side effects. If it works, it might buy me another year or two. AZT stops working for most people after that long.
“Dude!”
“There’s no cure, man. That’s just the way it is. I came home to say goodbye.”
Jim and Lenny picked me up one bright afternoon when mom was already at work. I ran outta the house after starin out the curtains for a long time. I hopped in their rental car before they could try to get out.
It’s like, I know Lenny grew up really poor in tenements. Jim’s single mom wasn’t a drunk, but they were pretty poor too. It’s just … I was embarrassed to have them come in. I really was.
Jim reached over the seat and hugged me. “You’re looking pretty good!”
“I feel a lot better. I think the AZT is starting to work. My T cells went up, anyway. And I got this friend who gets me weed. So my appetite’s better.”
Jim pulled outta the driveway still talkin. “You know? My buddy Howie in the Bronx can get you all the weed you need. Just sayin.”
I dint say a word, just scooted up against Lenny and let his body warm me up. I just wanted to be comfortable and enjoy our Saturday. Jim wouldn’t give it a rest, though.
“You know David hasn’t found a new roommate yet, right? I mean, he tried one guy, but he turned out to be a flake. He asked me to ask you to please come back home.”
We cruised down past the 7–11 and pulled onto the river drive that led past the old bridge.
“What for? I can’t work, I’m too sick. The City’s expensive. Too expensive for SSD and whatever else. And I pissed a lotta people off. Especially Greg and his friends.”
Jim threw his hands up even though he was trying to steer. “We can make it work! Housing Works helps with apartment subsidies. SSI pays better than SSD. The social workers at my job can totally hook you up. You know they can.”
Lenny spoke up for the first time since he said hi. I felt the words rumble from his chest as much as I heard them in my ear. “Herman asked me to tell you he loves you. He’s maybe Greg’s best friend. If Herman’s OK, everybody’s OK.”
“Look, can we just have lunch like we said? I don’t wanna have this argument again. I just wanna see you guys and have a nice day.”
Keith was waitin when we got back, just sittin on the porch with an unlit cigarette between his lips. Even though it was almost completely dark, I kinda drew back when Jim leaned over the seat to kiss me goodbye.
I could tell he noticed, because he tensed up.
But whatever, I kissed him, hugged Lenny, and got outta the car, all like, “Today was really great, guys. Thanks so much for lunch!”
I opened the front door to let Keith in the house. “You dint have to wait out here. It’s cold! Door’s always open.”
“I know. Those your friends from New York?”
We sat in the kitchen and talked while Keith broke open his cigarette and rolled a joint. “They still trying to talk you into going back?”
“Maybe. Not exactly talk me into, but they want me to.”
“They gay?”
“Um … yeah? Obviously?”
“Whatever, it’s cool, man. Just making conversation. I don’t think I’ve ever known any real gay people. Except for you.”
I snorted. Just couldn’t help myself. “Only because they dint TELL you. There’s gay people all over Castleton. They got gay clubs in Albany.”
“Maybe not too many, not if you had to run away to the City. Which … are we ever gonna talk about that? I tried to tell you I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t listen.”
I just looked at him. Let him lick the joint all up and down and seal it closed. Let him light it and take a huge drag. Let him hand it to me. I answered him before I took my own hit. “I know you’re sorry. I knew that night you’d be sorry in the morning. Fuck, I knew Mom would be sorry in the morning.”
“So why’d you go?”
“Because I was lonely!”
He winced.
I took three fast drags before I hit him again. “Because I was tired of you pretending to be totally straight or whatever game you were playin. Dude, I ain’t stupid. You dint deck me because you were afraid they’d know I used to suck your dick. You beat me up because they caught you kissing me. YOU were kissing ME.”
I handed back the joint and gave him time to think.
He filled his lungs and breathed out another, “I’m sorry” with the smoke.
“I don’t care. Really, I don’t give a shit if you’re sorry or not, but if I was still pissed off, I wouldn’t of come back.
He blinked and nodded.
I grabbed the joint from him and sucked in so hard I had a choking fit. By the time he was done pounding my back and getting me a glass of coke, we were both calm.
“So, what’s it like,” he went. “To live like that? To have boyfriends and just do whatever the hell you want? To not care what people think?”
“Dude! You got no idea! I can’t even tell you how happy I was. I had this boyfriend Luke. He was so …”
“Your mom told me.”
“Yeah.”
“Then he died, huh?”
“Then he died. And it was … awful. You don’t even wanna know what happened to him. You don’t want know what he turned into. I couldn’t even say goodbye because he had a tube stuck down his lungs to breath and he wasn’t even conscious anyway to know I was there.”
“And that’s why you left?”
“Nope. I was OK for a while. I thought I was. I have friends back there I love. I got family.”
“Then why?”
“If I tell you what I done, you might hate me. It’s just … forget the details. Let’s just put it like this. I ain’t no hero.”
“Who said you were supposed to be?”
“I’m just a fucked up, scared kid and all my friends are heros and they think I am too only they’re wrong. So I ran away. Again.”
What you just read actually happened.
I’m telling Brad’s story because I am probably the only person left in the universe who knows it.
More coming soon.
← Click below to read earlier chapters about Keith, Luke, Brad, and how Brad got kicked out of the house when he was only 17.
James Finn is a long-time HIV/LGBTQ activist, an alumnus of Act Up NYC, an essayist occasionally published in queer news outlets, and an “agented” novelist. Send questions, comments, and story ideas to [email protected].
